


Operation: Cobra

by cannibalisticshadows



Series: Avi's Anyem & Anyelle One-Shots [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Operation: Endgame (2010)
Genre: Dark Crack, F/M, Murder, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:30:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalisticshadows/pseuds/cannibalisticshadows
Summary: A year after the bloody affair at The Factory, Hiero, the lone survivor, is reassigned to a new government group called HEA - Happily Ever Afters.Given little choice, Hiero is thrown into a whole different world filled with magic and chaos she never even knew existed. All she has to do is find a certain inventor for a special gadget. A strange man offers his help...





	Operation: Cobra

“Where the bloody hell am I?” She asked, feeling herself grow cold from the sudden change in temperature. One moment, she was in the lab with Her Royal Highness the bloody Director, Regina Mills, and the next, she’d in the middle of the forest.

“Goodness, it’s cold,” Hiero mumbled as she began to walk beside a long dirt road. She couldn’t see any signs of humans or civilizations for miles all around. The wind was chill and nipped at her skin, but she marched on in her sturdy fur boots. That Mills lady had dressed her up in a dress for some Medieval peasant woman, yet it did nothing to guard her from the cold.

After several minutes of walking by her self, she heard the distant whine of a horse and the galloping of horse hooves. Smiling, she turned and spied a man bouncing on a chestnut horse. He slows beside her.

“Madam? What in the Gods’ are you doing out here? Are you lost?”

“I sure am, darlin’,” she sobbed crocodile tears. “My horse ran off without me.”

“Aw, well, I can’t leave ya here by your self. Come on, missy. I’ll give you a lift to the tavern and inn.”

“And they say chivalry is dead!” Hiero cheered, and accepted his offered hand as she mounted the panting beast in one swift leap. 

“I’m Boris. What’s your name?”

“Your end,” she giggled, and pulled out her knife from her bodice to slice his neck open in a river of warm blood.

~.~.~

The tavern, if that was what it was, was warm. And that’s all that mattered right now. Sniffing in distain, Hiero waltzed in with the sway of her hips, clothed in the dead man’s cloak to hide the blood on her. As expected, the male patrons turned to look at her. She smirked and winked. “Hiya fellas,” she cooed. “Can anyone of you gentlemen tell me where I am? I’m afraid I’ve gotten lost.”

“Little lady,” some bulking man with a breath heavy with drink rasped, “this is Avonlea.”

“Welcome to The Rat,” the bartender, she assumed, said over rubbing a mug down with a dirty rag. “ 

“So I’ve been welcomed.” Hiero glanced around. There were several places she could sit, but there wasn’t a table that wasn’t completely unoccupied. She was always in the mood to seduce some nice guy—or not—into letting her come over for a warm bed. If they got handy she could easily show them who was in charge. But today, she was tired, confused, and had to get a grip on her surroundings before she was ready to mess with anybody just yet. 

To her delight, in the farthest and darkest corner of the tavern, was one small four-person table seated by one individual. They were bent over a mug of something she couldn’t tell, with a descent pile of gold coins beside him. A wide hood was thrown over his head. Hiero couldn’t see their face, but from their body language she could tell they weren’t in the mood to chit-chat. Perhaps it was a woman, since they hadn’t looked up when she walked in.

“Hey darlin’,” Hiero cooed softly as she plopped down before him. “What’re you doin’, sitting here by your lonesome?”

The whole tavern went dead silent.

Hiero, for the first time, felt very out of place. The people stared at them as if she’d taken a seat by a live, man-eating lion.

Her chosen table partner tilted their head, but didn’t raise up to show her a face. “I could ask the same of you,” came a male’s voice—raspy and high pitched, like the sound of something clawing a chalk board. 

“I believe I asked you first, mister.”

He giggled. Actually giggled. Like some deranged child, the man—was he even a man?—looked up to finally meet her eyes.

And Hiero realized she made a mistake.

The man wasn’t human. His eyes were whiteless, wide and sunken in his face like a old, greasy demon. Freakish reptilian eyes bore a hole into her on as she stared at his strange skin of mottled green, gray, and flecks of gold. It was as if he was half crocodile, without obvious scales, with a hooked nose and thin lips and high, sharp cheekbones.

He smiled. Half rotten teeth gleamed back at her. “You’re not from here, are you, dearie?”

Hiero gulped. Though she was afraid, confused, and hating that Mills bitch with a passion, she had to stay composed. After all, she was chosen for this mission. “How’d ya guess, darlin’?”

This drew out another snigger from the imp. “Oh, I like you. What’s your name?”

She rolled her shoulders with the intent to arouse him. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” 

“Oh dear. Oh dearie dearie dear,” the imp clapped his hands. “Do you not know? Everyone comes to me for something, dearie. What is it you desire, hmm? Riches? Power?” A single, black clawed finger tapped his chin. “ _Twu Wuv?_ ”

He was unnerving her, and that was unexeptible. Hiero decided to take another path with this… man. “True Love? That’s a little too fairy-tale for me,” she drawled. “But if I can really make a deal with you, well, I’m looking for a man.”

“You and every other lass.”

“I’m looking for a specific man,” Hiero corrected, flipping her hair back to appear unbothered. “Goes by the name of Maurice.”

“Maurice? Maurice? Maurice from where?”

“The inventor.”

“Ah,” the imp crooned, recognition lighting up his alien eyes. “That old dog. Whatever for, dearie?”

“My own business, darlin’,” Hiero responded sweetly. Already she was becoming used to gazing at this strange being. “So, care to point me in the right direction?”

“Well,” giggled the imp, “nothing I do comes without a price!”

Hiero fluttered her eyes. “I’ve got nothin’ on me, darlin’.”

“I’m sure you do. After all, you haven’t even told me your name!”

“It’s Hiero. Short for Hierophant.”

“Hierophant. How quaint. Like the tarot card?”

“You got it, sugar. Now who and what on earth are you?”

He grinned maliciously. “Rumpelstiltskin. At your serves.”


End file.
